Straight on 'til Morning
by BlueLou24
Summary: Cobwebs and dusts clung to the box, stretching and fraying apart, not having the strength to hold it in place. His large hand swept over the top, removing layers of ancient dust, to reveal gleaming elegantly cut glass. Beneath the glass sat a well preserves metal hook, the sharp, deadly point telling tales of men slain in the past. For the We're Just Saiyan Challange. Lemon.


Straight on 'til Morning

Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or Peter Pan.

A/N: There are some adult, sexual themes in this story. If that's a no no for you then I just wanted you to be warned.

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The sharp gleam of steel flashed brightly from a small box that was perched atop a dusty unused fireplace. The spiders and other creatures that had come to call the dark hollow home scampered eagerly out of the narrow stretch of light that was now flooding across the spacious room. A dark figure entered through the rickety door frame, seeming far too sturdy for the abandon wreckage around him. In four long strides he was before the fireplace reaching up to grasp the box that held the untold treasure. Cobwebs and dusts clung to the box, stretching and fraying apart, not having the strength to hold it in place. His large hand swept over the top, removing layers of ancient dust, to reveal gleaming elegantly cut glass. Beneath the glass sat a well preserves metal hook, the sharp, deadly point telling tales of men slain in the past. A wicked smirk lifted the corners of the stranger's mouth before the box softy opened with an audible 'snick'. He reached in, grasping the hook securely before dropping the glass container. It shattered upon the matted, moldy carpet. Shards of glass flew around the room, twinkling brightly in the soft light from the door way. A metallic click echoed in the decaying room and the man left as quickly as he came, shutting the door swiftly, plunging the forgotten room into blackness.

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"Bulma!" A shrill voice called out, resounding through elegant halls. A tizzy of blonde curls and ruffled skirts burst from a doorway. The frantic woman peered through each door she passed as she hurriedly searched the expansive home. "Bulma!" she called again, her voice, unbelievably, raising another octave.

"In here, mother." A distracted voice called from somewhere around a distant corner. The blonde woman rushed down the hall and inhaled a gulp of air, relieved to see her precious daughter safe. The room before her was a mess of dissected machines, gutted and strewn around the carpet almost barbarically.

"Bulma, what have I told you about sneaking off." The older woman chided.

"What do you mean sneaking off? I got home and came down here to work." The slight annoyance in her voice was lost to her mother. She arose from her spot on a low sitting bench, raising her arms above her head. Small cracks and pops could be heard from the doorway and her mother winced in dissatisfaction.

"Well, you could let a poor old woman know where you're going to be. I was terrified that that demonic Hook had come for you." Bulma rolled her electric blue eyes skyward and laughed. She pulled the grimy, oil stained ball cap from her head and soft blue curls tumbled down her shoulders. Tossing the cap down, she ran her nails along her scalp, fluffing the mane of blue unintentionally. As she continued to pull her fingers through her hair she turned to her mother, a serious look on her face.

"Mom, Hook isn't real. He's just some character that Grandma's Grandma made up to scare the kids into behaving." Bulma's mother scoffed in disbelief. Her own eyes, the same striking blue as her daughter, narrowed.

"Grandma Wendy would be horrified to hear you talk like that." Bulma turned back to her work, half heartedly contemplating which panel would best ventilate the mechanism within.

"I'm sure she would be just fine hearing a grown woman deny childhood monsters." Bulma's mothered huffed and took a step away from the room, preparing to leave her daughter in peace, before she recalled a grave taboo.

"Bulma, your window was not locked when I went to your room to check on you." Her voice was suspicious. The question hung in the air between them for a moment before Bulma sighed and turned back to her mother.

"Yes, I leave it open at night to get a breeze. That's what will continue to happen until you realize that we live in the modern age and air conditioning was invented for a reason." Again, Bulma's mother was appalled.

"I would never touch this house. It's a piece of living history!" Bulma flinched against the high pitched wail and folded herself back onto the bench.

"Then my window will be open at night." Bulma replaced the baseball cap back atop her head, pulling her massive curls under control and returned to work, ignoring her mother's icy glare on her back.

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Three days on the skeletal Jolly Roger had proven far too long and far too unhelpful. He had found the hook easily enough, but he had known previously where it would be. It was common knowledge that Captain Hook's replacement hand had been put on display after he had been consumed by the mutant crocodile. And, although he was happy to have it, it still didn't give him any information on how to kill Peter Pan. He was currently shifting through another mold consumed box, hoping to find anything that his father had left behind. Surely there was something, anything on Pan's weakness.

A book, whose cover had long since given way to time was at the bottom of the box he was currently rifling through. He picked it up, prepared to throw it to the ground before he caught sight of the image of a young boy, dressed in leaves. His arms were angled outward with his fists balled at his waist. _Pan_. He quickly began flipping through the pages and skimmed over the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with Peter Pan and their adventures around Neverland. His eyebrow lifted in curiosity. He never recalled anyone saying anything about Peter Pan's mate. He pushed the book inside the satchel that hung across his body and stood elegantly. Now he needed answers.

The trip back to his mother's pub was arduous, what with only a row boat to get him to and from the Jolly Roger. And the damn hook he had made a vow to wear hadn't made it much easier. His hand ached and cramped beneath the metal attachment he had forged in order to wear his father's most recognized appendage. He had been tempted several times throughout the journey to pull the damned thing off and wear it when it was more convenient. But, his stubborn pride kept the hook in place.

As he rowed the last few hours towards an old pirate island the seas began to rock. White tipped waves threatened to spill him out of his meager boat and a cool wind chilled him to the bone. He had never experienced seas like this and he was anxious to get to his mother, who was strangely well versed in all things Pan. But, then she should be, being the mother to James Hook's son.

As soon as his boat was docked he made his way to a small saloon across the island. He had to stop several times as men were thrown through windows together, each trying to land the last drunken blow. He shook his head in distain and continued on, having no interest in the happenings on lesser men. When he ruled Neverland he would be sure that such brawlers would stop mid assault to kiss his boots.

His mother's bar was quaint and small, only large enough to serve 10 to 15 men at a time. He breezed through the doors and when he did several of the patrons raised their glasses, cheering him a welcome home. He smirked at the men and nodded, heading to the bar where a tall woman with long black hair stood, twirling a rag inside a large glass mug.

"Vegeta, Darling, I'm so glad that you're home." She gushed as she set the glass down and stretched her arms over the bar, silently demanding a hug from her son. The man named Vegeta leaned across the rotten wood of the bar and briefly embraced his mother, allowing her a soft peck on his cheek before he pulled away and sat down on one of the few worn stools. "So, now that you've gone off on your own, I'm sure you realize how silly this whole idea is." She said confidently as she returned to polishing her mug. "Especially with the weather changing like it is." His mother's tone knitted his eyebrows. It wasn't worry in her voice, but it sounded very similar.

"What do you mean?" He asked gruffly, leaning over the bar to grab a mug from underneath. He placed it under a gleaming spout and tugged on a metallic lever, spewing a frothy golden liquid inside. He pulled it back in front of him and took a long pull, downing half of the contents in one go. As he eased the drink back to the counter he wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand and turned to his mother expectantly. She shook her head in disapproval.

"Well, the last time this type of weather appeared you father had almost killed Peter Pan." Vegeta's eyes shot up in surprise and he continued to stare at his mother, urging her to continue. "So, I assume he's dying. That means you can give up on this ridiculous quest."

"Hardly, I need you to tell me what this is." He couldn't stake his rule on the possibility of Pan dying by accident, he needed to see it. He pulled the book out and set it on the bar's surface, pushing it across the splintered wood until it was right in front of his distracted mother. She pulled her hand out of the mug once more and placed it on a rack beneath the bar before she turned to look at her son. Her eyes fell on the book and sighed in annoyance.

"I don't know, Vegeta, why bring me every bit of trash you fi-…" Her sentence was cut short as she flipped the first page. A small note was scrawled across the cover and his mother's hand lightly brushed over the words, her eyes softening. From his vantage he could still read the elegant script.

It read, '_To Peter, even as we know what will happen as time drifts by, may our adventure live for as long as you do. –Wendy Moira Angela Darling, Mother._

"Who is Wendy?" He asked. His mother continued to stare at the letters on the page, completely memorized by them.

"Well, she's the mother to the lost boys." The statement forced him back. He looked at his mother in utter confusion and she smiled softly at her son. "Not their real mother. Wendy was from somewhere other than Neverland. Peter found her and decided that he wanted her to join him, to tell the boys stories and take care of them." The sentiment was disgusting and he wrinkled his nose at it.

"Peter Pan, the boy who slain my father, was playing house with some girl and his friends?" His mother chuckled lightly as she flipped past a few more pages, skimming each one.

"You could say that, although I suspect that she meant a bit more to Peter then just a pretend wife." Vegeta processed the information he had just received and a smirk slowly began to play upon his lips.

"So, where is this Wendy now?" He asked. And his mother knew immediately what he was thinking.

"She'll be no good to you now, she returned to her home and I'm sure she's dead by now. Time passes differently there than in Neverland." Vegeta growled in frustration and swept the book away from his mother, forcing it to the floor.

"Well, the hell of a lot of good it did me finding that damn ship." He spat, glaring at the book he had hoped would bring him real answers. The small v of frustration between his eyebrows eased slightly as he saw another note scrawled across the back cover. He knelt down and scooped the book up, holding it close to his face in order to read the faded words.

'_My mother wanted you to have this, we will both miss you, Peter. –Moira Darling'_

Vegeta's smirk returned full force and he beamed up at his mother.

"This Wendy had a daughter, And she knew Pan. I'm sure he would be just as protective of her." With that he swept out of the small bar and made his way back to his ship. He was so very close to his revenge that he could taste it.

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The summer breeze felt incredible against her over heated skin. She had just come out of a steaming hot shower and her silken night shorts and tank were sticking to her unpleasantly. She lay sprawled across her bed, over the comforter, hoping the cool night air would aid her soon enough. When she had entered her room she was not pleased to see that her mother had barred her balcony doors closed. Even though it was short work for a genius to remove the obstacle, it was still an inconvenience none the less. How could a perfectly sane woman, like her mother, be so deathly afraid of a fictional character? It made absolutely no sense.

She glanced around the room she had grown up in and felt as though she were living in another time. An ancient toy box that was filled to the brim with fake swords and pirate hats still sat in the corner it had sat in since she was a child. The faded pink wall paper was ruffled and feminine, something she had never been a fan of. She did, however, love the mural along the balcony wall. Even if it was a little childish, she adored the wild happenings of a group of young boys in a far away land, chasing pirates and running from killer mermaids. It was a tale she had grown up with, and even though she didn't believe, it was still a guilty pleasure to stare at the mural and imagine that she was able to live that life. Not the dull existence she had come to know. She was the vice president of her father's company and his most talented engineer. She did love to create things, but she was just so tired of the same thing day in and day out. She craved excitement and adventure. Much like all of the women that came before her she guessed. Maybe this is what led her great great great grandmother to invent the mythical world of Neverland. The thought gently caressed her mind and she felt the thick fog of sleep begin to settle around her. Her eyes became impossible to keep open and as she closed them, finally letting sleep take her, she could have sworn she saw a dark figure standing just outside her open window.

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The window he had been searching for was angled inwardly, open to the night air. His black eyes could not penetrate the darkness that was thick beyond the frame but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the house. The book he had salvaged from his father's wrecked ship had given a somewhat detailed description of where to go and what to look for. He swiftly pushed himself out of his rowboat, quite pleased that the fairy dust he had stolen to get it air born had sufficed. Soft, deep breaths could be heard beyond the window frame. He hoped that it was this Moira girl. He was in far too much of a rush for the work that came along with finding an individual while their family tried to protect them.

After he passed through the open window pane he paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The air around him was heavy and scented with something that he could only describe as fresh. As if the lagoon from Neverland was in the next room. He turned slightly, and began to follow the familiar scent. The doorway that he approached was slim and he could almost see the humidity from the room curl outwards towards him, as if to take hold of him and drag him away. He was quickly reminded of the traitorous mermaids that inhabited the lagoon and immediately thought better of investigating the adjacent. He turned back to the window, considering how long he had until morning. It would be much easier to find this Moira person in the light of day. A soft moan was heard to his left and he turned quickly drawing his sword.

Upon the bed that was centered against the far wall was a slim figure. At first glance he was sure he had stumbled into a mermaid den, and looked around worriedly, hoping others weren't close by. The creatures hair looked as though it were flowing water, as blue as the lagoon itself. He moved closer, making sure not a sound was made. Her angelic face was turned towards him and he was relieved to see that her eyes were closed. She was sleeping. But why was she at the surface. Something was obviously wrong with her. His calculating gaze moved from her face down to her shapely chest. Another curiosity. He had never seen a mermaid utilize clothing before. It took away from their siren-esque ability to draw you in. He moved closer and his gaze continued down the beings form. She was absolutely stunning, most definitely a queen of the wretched, murderous whores. He tightened his grip on his sword, determined not to be caught off guard, he had seen far too many men drawn away and drown due to their lust. He suddenly stopped, his gaze lingering on two long legs that were barely covered by a strip of material. His first thought was what they would feel like, wrapped around his waist, as he slammed into their owner.

He shook his head, clearing the thought away. It had been far too long since he had been with a woman. He needed to focus. This was no mystical creature from the depths, this was a woman possibly Moira. Vegeta's smirk returned and he inwardly tipped his hat to Pan. The boy had good taste. Vegeta swiftly sheathed his blade and approached the bed, determined to find out who this woman was. A bright pair of lights passed outside and he stepped back, gazing out the window, perplexed as to what he had just seen. The lights faded from his mind almost instantly as he was faced with a mural of his home. Atop the window sat a copy of Peter Pan, seemingly guarding the room. He felt a strong urge to cut the boy down but decided against it. He would have the real thing in due time. Vegeta turned back to the bed, now confident that the woman he was seeking was in his grasp. In two strides he was at the bedside. He paused once more to examine the woman. It would be a shame to kill her after he had his day with Pan. Perhaps he would keep her long enough to satisfy the lust that continued to build with in him.

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She was having a very strange dream. It had started with a warmth embracing her. It curled itself behind her legs and around her shoulders, pulling her into a soft comfort that she hadn't felt in months. A delicious musk had filled her senses and she pawed at the warmth, hoping to make something less abstract appear. She was surrounded by darkness, unable to make herself see an ounce of detail in the area around her. A cool breeze blew past her and she pulled herself closer to the warmth, trying to immerse herself within it. She felt the embrace around her tighten and she let out a soft moan of contentment. The sound caught her off guard; it was far more erotic than she had intended it to be. A low rumble was felt against her body, right at the center of the warmth. It was strangely enticing. If only she could see.

A desire began to pool between her legs, spreading a lust filled fire into the pit of her stomach. She rolled her hips once, twice, and a third time against the warmth, trying in vain to relieve some of the pressure that was building. Another rumble passed through her and she suddenly felt a solid mass that now accompanied the warmth. It was no longer just a feeling but something she could touch. She nuzzled her face against a piece of soft fabric and flexed her fingers against the rumble. Her other hand was slowly drawing a sensual line down the center of her chest, between her breasts and down her stomach until she reached the waistband of her night shorts. She softly popped the elastic a few times, enjoying the anticipation she felt coming off the warmth in waves. It was watching her, begging her to continue. But, if it wanted this so badly, why not just take control. Another pop of her elastic echoed in her ears and she heard the rumble this time. It was deep and seductive. The kind of noise you always wish a man would make while in bed. Her desire flared between her legs again and she rolled her hips once more. She felt an iron grip in her hair. It tugged roughly, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. She let out another moan, hoping to tempt the warmth inside. She let her legs fall away from each other as the tip of her fingers skimmed the skin just beneath her waist band.

Suddenly she felt a solid grip around her wrist. It pulled her hand away and placed it down against her stomach. The grip moved away and she pouted. Feeling very unfulfilled. Another breeze caressed her heated skin and she shivered, trying to pull herself in even closer. The hand in her hair lessened its grip and she pressed her face against the warmth again. The desire she felt slowly faded away as she felt the inky blackness of sleep consume her. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Vegeta stared down at the exotic creature that was pressed against him in shock. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to tame the beast that had been awoken just moments before. He lifted the small woman up from his lap and quickly adjusted his manhood, embarrassed at his own reaction. He set the woman back on his lap, hesitating momentarily as he contemplated letting her sleep on the floor of the boat. It would be more comfortable for him and much less tempting. He gazed down at the woman again scanning her face, trying to detect any signs that she was or had been awake. The memory of her actions stirred the desire within him and decided to lay her down. He eased her body to the floor gently, attempting not to wake her. She shivered slightly as he pulled away and he examined her clothes. She was basically wearing nothing. He felt another pull at his groin and quickly pulled the boat cover over her delicate body. She immediately snuggled into the coarse canvas and became still again.

Vegeta sat back onto one of the planks and rested his chin against the heel of his hand. He needed to get his body under control. This girl was only a tool to him until he killed Pan. What came after that was of no consequence. His eyes flashed to the small lump beneath the canvas. He was straining awkwardly against his pants and he needed some release. He had been so close. If she had moved her hand down any further he would have had his way with her right then. The memory of her sensuous moans and enticing hips hardened him further and he pushed his hand against his cock, gripping it aggressively. Maybe fucking her could work to his advantage. If she became attached to him more than Pan then perhaps she would tell him where to go. His grip eased slightly and he moved his thumb in a slow circle around the tip. He dipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting the pleasure spread through him.

The image of the blue haired temptress pressing herself against him as she trailed her hand down her body entered his mind and he cursed himself for not allowing her to continue. His mind whirled with possibilities. Images of her writhing above him as he pushed his entire length into her slowly flooded him and he couldn't help but let out a growl as his hand found its way beneath his own waistband. His cock was hard and awkward to move comfortably beneath his trousers, so he swiftly pulled himself out and leaned back on his left arm, trying to support his weight as more and more images of the woman invaded his thoughts. He felt the cramp of his hand beneath the hook and growled in frustration, quickly pulling the entire mechanism off before he moved into a completely supine position. His grip returned to his member and he pumped it quickly, wishing it was someone else's hand. He faintly registered a shuffle of fabric but paid no mind, too consumed by his thoughts to care.

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A/N: Uh-Oh! Is out little Veggis gonna be caught doin' the dirty by our sweet little Bulma? MAYBE! Well this is Part 1 of 2! I hope to get it finished by the time my break from school is over. I was just going to make it one big long oneshot but I decided to just get a portion of it out! Next chapter our two lovers meet and there will be some deliciously lemony goodness accompanied with the arrival in Neverland and the hunt for Peter! I hope you all enjoyed. Thanks MaymayB and Mallie3 for making this challenge it has been a blast!


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